


we could help each other rise above

by MageOfCole



Series: Children of Hope and Glory [25]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Original Trilogy, Star Wars Prequel Trilogy, The Mandalorian (TV)
Genre: Accidental Baby Acquisition, Adoption, Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Boba is a Troll, Caught, Compromising situations, Friends With Benefits, Getting Back Together, Implied Sexual Content, M/M, Mando'a, Oh My God They Were Bounty Hunting Partners, POV Character of Color, Resolved Sexual Tension, Road Trips, Sexual Teasing, Side Story, Teasing, Touch-Starved, Yoda is a Troll
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-05
Updated: 2020-04-05
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:48:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,245
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23489350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MageOfCole/pseuds/MageOfCole
Summary: Din Djarin is a simple man, a man of the Creed, and he’s not sure how he got here; stuck on the Razor Crest with a past lover, said past lover’s daughter, a strange elderly goblin, and a small green ad that had somehow decided that Din was the perfect buir candidate.
Relationships: Baby Yoda & The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV), Boba Fett/The Mandalorian (The Mandalorian TV)
Series: Children of Hope and Glory [25]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1616737
Comments: 20
Kudos: 393





	we could help each other rise above

**Author's Note:**

> Story title inspired by Pull Me In by Red Jumpsuit Apparatus
> 
> This is a side story to the main story line, but can be read as a stand alone if that's what you'd prefer!

Din isn’t sure how he got here.

Here, being stuck on the Razor Crest with his on-again-off-again lover of the last ten years, said lover’s daughter that he didn’t know existed, a strange green elder goblin, and a small green _ad_ that had somehow decided that Din was the perfect _buir_ candidate, despite there being a perfectly good - if slightly insane - member of its own kind literally _right_ there. Din is a simple man, a man of the Creed - he wears his _beskar'gam_ with pride, and hadn’t allowed anyone to see under his _buy'ce_ since he put it on. He hunts, and he collects his payment to pay for the Foundlings. He’s proud of what he’s become, he’s a strong _Mando’ad_ , and he’s no longer the scared little boy hiding from droids.

But taking on a Foundling was not part of the plan.

He had been turning in a hunt when he had returned to his ship, bounty in hand, when he had heard the rattle of something moving around the Razor Crest. At first, he had figured it was an animal that had gotten stuck, but he had pulled out his blaster anyways, just in case, and had moved to investigate. On his ship had been something much weirder than an animal, because seated among his rations, is a tiny little creature in a too big robe with too big eyes. It had just been the start of the strange spiral his life had taken; with the kid, had come the strange goblin Yoda, and with Yoda came Ailyn Fett, and with Ailyn Fett, came her _buir_.

Boba Fett; professional pain in the sheb, and the current bane of Din’s existence.

“The kids are asleep.” Din glances over his shoulder to see Boba reclining loosely against the wall, _buy'ce_ off and dark brown curls surrounding his handsome face. He watches Din with predatory intent, a crooked grin on his lips, and Din has to avert his eyes, feeling _wrong_ for seeing the man without the shield of his helmet.

It sends a fission of desire down his spine.

“Looks like we’re alone for the rest cycle.” Boba purrs, and Din has to keep his gaze pointedly on the blurred lines of their hyperspace lane and not react when he feels warm fingers ghost across the small strip of bare skin between his shirt and his _buy'ce_. He knows if he shows any sort of reaction, the smug _mir'sheb_ would count it as a win, and everything would just dissolve from there. Next thing he’d know one thing would lead to another, and knowing his terrible luck, Fett’s _ad_ would come up the ladder to the cockpit and find them with their pants down and probably with a dick somewhere it shouldn’t be in front of young eyes.

It wasn’t the first time that they would have done something like that in his cockpit.

Boba drops down into the co-pilot’s seat, smirking at him in the way that always meant having a fun time, and Din tries to keep his face towards the sight outside of his window, but he can’t quite fight the muscle jumping in his thigh when Boba’s palm lands on the fabric, the warmth of his skin seeping through to his leg underneath. The other Mando’s chuckle rolls over him, thick and coy, and his hand presses harder against the muscle.

“Still so sensitive.” Boba purrs, fingers kneading into his leg, and Din is glad for his helmet muffling the faint whine rising in his throat.

“You never told me you had an _ad’ika_.” He says instead, trying to derail their current trajectory.

“You never said you had one either.” Boba shoots back, but his fingers continue what they were doing before, teasing around the edges of his thigh armour, finding just the right spots to touch and prod from years of experience.

“I _don’t_.” Din hopes his helmet is disguising the low gasps slipping from his lips.

“The kid looking at you like you hung the stars for him says _otherwise_ , partner of mine.” Boba leans forward, breath ghosting across his neck, and Din fights down a shiver. “What’re you naming your _ad_ , _Din_?”

“He’s not my _ad_.”

“Tell that to him,” Boba smirks, “Go on, go break his little green heart.” He punctuates his statement with a pointed press against Din’s codpiece, and he can’t stop the jerk that moves his hips.

“ _Ne'johaa_!” He snaps, and Boba chuckles smugly.

“You can’t do it.” The other man teases, dark eyes glittering mischievously, and Din growls at him. “Come on, _Din_ ,” The sound of his name rolling off of Fett’s tongue makes him shudder again, matched with another pointed press against the codpiece. “What’s his name?”

“I don’t know.” Din snarls to keep his whine at bay, ignoring the tingling feeling left behind from Boba’s touch.

“Then _name_ him, Din.” The bastard _knows_ what he was doing to him, “He already wants you to, and I don’t need creepy space magic to know it.” Din growls at him again, but Boba’s smirk only grows and he pushes again, the sheb. “Come on, _Din_. Name him.” Din gasps, the pressure is unrelenting, and he wants to move, to shove Fett down and show him just _what_ he was doing to him. “ _Name_ him, Din.”

Finally, Din gets his lips to move in something that isn’t a soundless gasp, “ _Ad_.” Boba’s hand pauses, and retreats, and Din almost whines at the loss of the pressure.

“You’re trying to name your kid, _kid_?” Boba says, actually sounding indignant.

“Well you’re the one who told me to name him.”

“You can’t name your kid, kid.”

“ _You_ can’t tell me what to do.”

“I just did. Name your kid something other than kid.” The fingers inch towards his belt, tugging on it with his demand.

“ _Fine_.” Din snarls at him, “Fine. _Yad_.”

“All you did was add a letter.”

“Yad.” Din puts down his foot, and glares at the sheb in front of him through his visor. Boba just snorts, tugging on his belt again, and in revenge, Din jerks to his feet, shoving the other man further against the chair, grabbing his offending hands and pinning them against his side. A purposeful knee wedges itself between Boba’s thighs, just pressing against the other man’s codpiece enough to apply pressure. Din looms over the other man, and Boba flutters his lashes at him coyly, smirking.

“His name is Yad.” Din wants to knock that smirk off of his pretty face, to pound him into the seat like they had two years ago, to make him beg so prettily again.

A happy coo interrupts them, and Din jerks away from Boba, head snapping around in horror to see the little grub standing at the mouth of the trapdoor; somehow, the little thing had managed to crawl out of his sleeping cabinet and up the ladder into the cockpit. And now, munching on a ration, he watches them with big eyes, ears perked curiously. He’s staring at them, waiting for something, and Din swallows nervously.

The kid coos again, this one more pointed, impatient, and stares with those big, black eyes.

“ _Yad_?” Din prompts, and the big floppy ears perk up even further, eyes brightening, as he coos.

Still seated in the co-pilot’s seat, sprawled like they hadn’t just nearly been caught getting it on in front of a little kid, Boba snorts. “Not my kid, my shebs.”

**Author's Note:**

> Baby Yoda's name in my head until he gets a canon one is Yad.


End file.
